Interlude
by RogueFaith1
Summary: Sometime between the gunshot and heaven's gates, Beth's mind resets.


For a second when Beth's eyes open everything is spectacularly, blindingly white. The world tilts and turns, refocusing. Suddenly there are bright yellow curtains with sunshine streaming in, and rough, warm hands shaking her awake.

"C'mon Bethy time to wake up," a man with shaggy blonde hair and kind blue eyes smiles down at her. "Can't have you sleeping through breakfast again," he chides lightly.

"Sean?" Her mouth supplies before her brain can process the name bubbling up from her throat. "Sean," she says again not understanding why his name on her lips is making tears spring

into her eyes.

"Hey - you okay?" he reams back concerned, looking at her like she's grown another head. Tears that seconds ago were only stinging now roll down her cheeks in waves, as her brother's hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Beth doesn't understand the tears, or the sharp pain in her chest - but for the life of her she cannot stop the rush of unknown emotion. "Let me call, dad. He said you're fever broke last night, but you don't look so good."

"Don't," she gaps painfully not willing to let Sean out of her sight. His head cocks to the side, confusion and concern waring in his too blue eyes, as her slender fingers wrap around his.

"Everything alright in here?" a voice calls from the door. And suddenly her mother and father are pushing past the arch of her doorway and crossing over too her bed. Beth thinks she is having a panic attack, chest tightening unable to breathe. "Easy now, Beth."

Her mother is by her side, rubbing soothing circles into her back and Beth is so undeniably grateful for her hand anchoring her. "It's alright," the woman coos. "How you feeling honey? You gave us quite some scare last night."

Despite the panic and the horror she feels clinging to her throat, Beth feels happy. Like she is finally coming home. "My head hurts," Beth manages, noting for the first time the throbbing sensation. "What happened?"

"You caught the flu from Sophia, when you were teaching Sunday School." Her father supplies slowly, examining her carefully. "You were out with fever for the past couple of days, but I think the worst of it past."

"Oh," Beth manages. Beth doesn't remember the fever or Sunday school, but her mother is still rubbing her back and Sean's hand is still firmly grasped within her's so she doesn't really question it

"Why don't you rest a bit longer?" Annette murmurs. Beth nods and lays back down, head suddenly swimming.

That night Beth helps Annette set the table, carefully placing five plates down before Annette is starring at her, one eyebrow raised. "We expecting company tonight?" she questions.

"Hmmm?" Beth hums.

"Whose the extra plate for?"

"Oh, must've miscounted." Beth offers, but Annette doesn't look assuaged. Beth can't really blame here, because Beth could've sworn she remembers always setting down five plates.

That night Beth dreams. But her usually bright and technicolor dreams take on a more muted tone. Her dreams are green and gray, the color of dead grass and the first tendrils of winter. However, there is a woman in her dreams. A beautiful girl with dark brown hair and big, warm eyes. She is smiling, a bright dazzling smile that reminds her strangely of Sean. There's a name on the tip of Beth's tongue but she can't bring herself to call it.

In the morning, when Beth wakes up she finds herself trying to recall the woman from her dreams. But Beth's dreams are fleeting, and she can't hold onto the fragmented pieces of her memories for long.

"You feeling any better, Beth? You still don't look so good." Sean questions, catching her elbow in his hand as they cross paths in the hallway.

"Head still hurts something fierce, but I think I'm feeling better." Sean hums, blue eyes still cataloguing her. "I'm fine," she smiles up at him, "really."

"If you say so," he replies looking not at all convinced. He nods down at her, eyes suddenly taking on a mischievous glint. "Shame too that you had to go and get sick like that."

"And why's that?"

"I was going to finally offer to take you on a ride on that bike of mine."

"Oh please Sean - pretty please will you still take me," she coos, batting her eyes prettily at him.

He laughs, "Anything for you Bethy."

Later as Beth is getting dressed for her ride, she recalls not remembering Sean ever purchasing a motorcycle. If the thought bothers her, all of her doubts fade away as soon as she sets eyes on the familiar looking Harley. Climbing on behind her brother feels familiar, safe. It's the first tie in days that she really feels at peace and that awful throbbing in her head subsides. Sean must be able to sense it too, because he is teasing her and laughing.

"You got no sense of balance, girl," he chides, smirk playing on his lips. "It's a wonder you even managed to hang on to me that whole ride."

She laughs brightly at him, slapping at his chest. "Will you quit that."

"Ain't my fault you can barely walk in a straight line, let alone ride a bike."

"I think I did mighty fine," she replies indignantly while he stares dubiously at her. "Next time i might even take that baby for a spin without you having to chaperone me, Mr. Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon?" Sean laughs. Beth laughs too shaking her head at Sean, despite the nausea she's beginning to grow accustomed to kicking back in full force. "You're an odd one Beth Green."

That night Beth is sure to only set four plates around the table, ignoring her mind's protests that something is wrong. The feeling of nausea had been steadily rising since her trip with Sean, and Beth thinks that maybe she really hadn't shaken the flu off just yet. Still Beth manages to chat merrily through dinner, sensing somewhere from deep within her soul that no matter how bad she feels that she should cherish these moments with her family - because it is so easy to loose it all. These thoughts give way to a soft dread. Clawing at the corner of her mind are flashes of a pretty brunette surrounded by death. Beth pushes the thoughts away, focusing on her family once more.

She thinks the girl's ghost's appearance at her dinner table serves as a harbinger of things to come. Maybe Beth is going mad. She expects to dream about the brunette again that night. Laying in her bed, Beth feels wild, anxious - if she didn't know better she'd say almost excited with anticipation of it for some unbeknownst reason - so she is throughly shocked when instead she dreams of a devilishly charming man, with the bluest eyes she's ever seen. Beth thinks she is in love. The feeling is so strong she cannot shake it even hours after waking.

Her father finally corners her about her bizarre behavior when they are feeding the horses.

"You've got your ma real worried," he drawls, almost conspiratorially at her. Beth bites back a smile, because it is just so Hershel to blame this little intervention on her poor mama. "You sure you feeling alright, Beth?"

"Still feeling a bit under the weather, but I'm fine really." For a moment, Beth thinks her father will let her off the hook. Confident she continues, "Funny cause I don't even remember catching that darn flu from poor little Judith. How's she feeling any how?"

Beth is aware that she must've said something wrong, because Hershel is suddenly tense. But then just as easily he lets out a breathy exhale, warm eyes smiling down at her, "Maybe, that's cause it was Sophia who gave it to you instead. But that little one is pulling along much better than you in any condition. I brought her some tea earlier this week."

"That's good," Beth says, meaning it. The fever and her daddy taking care of folks all snaps a bit more clearly into place. Suddenly, Beth can picture her father crushing the tea leaves together with a distinct clarity, but that awful gnawing feeling that something is off is still ever present in her gut.

"You just need to rest up a bit, and you'll be running around causing your ma all sorts of heartache in no time, making her wish you were still knocked out from this bug."

Beth giggles, "You know I never cause trouble."

"Not a stitch," he smiles at her even as his eyes follow Sean moving from the house to the garage. "Least one of my children knows how to be good." Sean's Harley revs up in the background, causing Hershel to chuckle. "Too bad God didn't bless me with more daughters." Beth smiles weakly, as the nausea that was just moments ago right beneath the surface rises over to take hold of her whole stomach. She knows she must be turning green, and Hershel's smile eases off of his face. "You sure you feeling aright?"

"Just a bit queasy. It hits every now and again."

"You been getting enough rest?"

"I'm trying but I keep getting," Beth pauses trying to find an appropriate word, "nightmares."

Hershel sighs down at her, "Just fever dreams Beth. They'll pass soon enough."

Beth decides to bypass dinner that night given the rolling sensations still spiraling through her gut. She lays in her bed feeling clammy and achy. Fever dreams, her father had called them. Maybe that's all these strange nightmares are. But really, the man with the too blue eyes, the woman with Sean's smile, don't fill her with that peculiar sense of dread that nightmares generally entail. Beth tries not to think of it, forcibly expelling the thoughts from her mind as she lays in her bed. As her consciousness starts to fade, Beth vaguely wonders why her memories of her daddy making tea are in the same muted tones from her dreams.

Gasping for breath, Beth wakes up screaming. Incoherent, inarticulate words jumble pat her lips, except its not a word bleeding past her quivering lips at all. It's a name. Rough hands, paw across her shoulders and back.

"C'mon girl, you got to talk to me. What's wrong?" Her brother's got her propped up against him forcing her to make contact into eyes that are just the wrong shade of blue from the man in her dreams.

"Daryl," the name shrieks past her lips, like a half habitual prayer. "We got separated." Sean is still staring at her, eyes that are two shades too light peering into her's with such a fierce intensity it makes her breath catch.

"Honey, it was just a bad dream," Annette soothes from somewhere beside her. Her mother's calm, sweet tones don't do anything to ease her shaking, to make the sick feeling in the pit her of her stomach go away. In fact, when her mother's cool hand once again connects to brush strands of gold behind Beth's ear its all Beth can do to turn her head away and into the nearest garbage pall to rid herself of the bile creeping up her throat.

"I want Maggie," Beth sobs suddenly, causing Hershel to exchange a worried glance with Sean who still has not moved to cease supporting her.

"The fever must be back," Hershel mutters. "Beth you're sick."

But no Beth knows she is not sick. _Oh god, she is dying, dying, dead._ Is she dead? The panic in her chest rises to an unbearable crescendo, but its her head not her heart that feels as though it might burst. Eyes shutting against the panic, despite Sean's rough but not calloused hands stroking her face. _Daryl_, her mind screams again, but Beth can't find it in herself to breathe out the name - not when her head is throbbing like this. Not when the pressure is building and building — and for a second when Beth's eyes open everything is spectacularly, blindingly white. The world tilts and turns, refocusing. Suddenly there are bright yellow curtains with sunshine streaming in, and rough, warm hands shaking her awake.

"C'mon Bethy time to wake up," a man with shaggy blonde hair and kind blue eyes smiles down at her. "Can't have you sleeping through breakfast again," he chides lightly.


End file.
